


my love is:

by kalachuchi



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Ambiguous Relationships, Cohabitation, Explicit Sexual Content, Jun Is Famous and Minghao Clones Him: the Fic, M/M, mild breathplay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-26
Updated: 2018-10-26
Packaged: 2019-08-07 22:47:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16417478
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kalachuchi/pseuds/kalachuchi
Summary: “I’m allowed to have two of me,” Junhui reasons, “because I’m a Gemini.”





	my love is:

**Author's Note:**

> sometimes you plan things out and sometimes it's scorpio season so you write things that are neither sad nor horny but something vaguely in between

 

 

 

There’s such tenderness at times in your eyes, as though I am loved. 

**Dmitry Merezhkovsky, _She Loves Me She Loves Me Not_**

 

 

When Minghao opens the door, two heads turn. 

Bracketed between someone else’s arms, Junhui peers up at Minghao and beams – “Minghao’s here!” – before Someone Else echoes in Junhui’s voice, somewhat stilted, “Minghao is here?”

_Someone Else_ shares Junhui’s face, is wearing Junhui’s clothes. The sleeve of Minghao’s own hoodie clings to Junhui’s arms where they clutch at Someone Else’s back. Someone Else who, Minghao knows, shouldn’t even be aware of where this apartment is, let alone be inside it.

At Minghao’s prolonged silence, Junhui slips one hand back to worry at the hoop of his earring. A small frown appears at Junhui’s mouth as his eyes flick up and down, never fully leaving Minghao’s face. 

“Did something bother you at work, Minghao?”

There’s a similar frown on Minghao’s own face when he brings his hand up to adjust his glasses, and Minghao’s hand pauses, stuttering before it reaches the familiar wire frames. At the back of Minghao’s throat there is a spool of thread rapidly unravelling, directly in contrast to the knots that gather and sink in Minghao’s stomach, anchored there whenever Junhui’s schedules have him leave the apartment for days, sometimes even weeks at a time. More accustomed to being the one who worries more, Minghao doesn’t know what to do with being the one fussed over. 

Minghao thinks, _I need water._ Minghao thinks, _Junhui forgets to refill the filter when he’s alone._

But Junhui is not alone. Minghao doesn’t address this directly.

Instead Minghao just says, “Jun.”

Once again, two heads turn to focus on him, _Jun_ standing where he’s left as Junhui drifts to Minghao, slouching a little to tuck his chin against Minghao’s shoulder to say, softly, “Gonna hug you too, ‘kay?”

Then Junhui hugs him, swaying them both from side to side. Minghao hugs back, partly to keep them both upright, partly to ascertain it’s really Junhui he’s holding.

This, Minghao will later rationalise, is the start of how he ends up calling in sick at the labs tomorrow. 

Presently, Minghao says, “When did Jun get here.”

Jun’s expression brightens as he explains, “Twenty two minutes ago. I was invited inside by the source material–”

“Source material,” Junhui coos. “Is this why you take my photos for me?”

Minghao sighs. “ _How_ did you get here, then.” To Junhui, he says, “No. That’s just a hobby.” 

Then: “Wait. Hug me _too?”_ Silence.

“I’ve always wanted to hug myself! Hugs make everyone feel better.”

“You’re not– This isn’t weird to you. Really?”

“I’m allowed to have two of me,” Junhui reasons. “Because I’m a Gemini.”

Letting go of Junhui, Minghao guides him back beside Jun and says, “I don’t think that’s how it works.”

Junhui allows, “Maybe. But you still made me another me. _Or–_ you made _you_ another me!”

“Barring production-based symmetry, my body is a physical replica of ninety eight percent accuracy,” Jun rattles off, tone chirpy as he chatters away. This, at least, doesn’t surprise Minghao. He has always prided himself on his eye for detail.

Minghao bites his lip, ruffling Junhui’s hair roughly as Junhui preens, draping himself over Jun.

“My nose is prettier, I think,” Junhui offers. “But you tried really hard, Xiao Hao, so I’ll allow it.”

The thread in Minghao’s throat unravels entirely, curls around his voice as something akin to affection, light on his tongue when he laughs.

“You better,” Minghao says.

 

 

Junhui thinks Jun should get to stay at the apartment, an argument Minghao is more than ready to counter, if Junhui wasn’t even more insistent on Jun getting another nickname. “I was Jun first.”

“You’ll always be Jun,” Minghao snorts. “Don’t be mean to Jun, Feifei.” 

Pleased, Junhui covers his mouth with his hand and whispers, “You called me _Feifei!_ Ah, you love me after all… don’t you, Hao, don’t you–”

“You’re alright.”

“– enough to give me your bed, right?” What.

“What.”

“Well,” Junhui explains, “ _I’m_ not sleeping on the couch. _You_ don’t like sleeping on the couch. Jun has to sleep somewhere.”

Narrowing his eyes, Minghao says, “But why does that mean you get my bed.”

“You have a double! And I’m staying with Jun,” Junhui says, flippant, as if should be obvious.

It probably is, to Junhui.

“What am I supposed to do with you,” Minghao informs him. He doesn’t say no.

 

 

Minghao never does discover how Jun ended up at their apartment. 

Which really, is just as well – Junhui’s face is rather known, these days. It wouldn’t do to present his – ninety eight percent – complete counterpart for a panel, let alone the general public. Minghao will just have to present an entirely manufactured model for his proposal.

 

 

Junhui is right – a single mattress is too small for two people. Junhui is in Jeju for the next three days, too far away to say _I told you!_

Jun whispers, “Minghao. I like it when Junnie is here.” 

Minghao can feel Jun’s eyes on his back, watching him, and doesn’t complain about Jun’s fingers holding on gently to the hem of his shirt. “I like it when he’s home, too.”

“I like it when you’re here too,” Jun adds. “You’re not here anymore when I wake up for breakfast time.”

Junhui has never complained about Minghao’s working hours before. But Jun, smart and trusting and new to life, sees no reason to hold his tongue. “Yeah?”

“Mm. It’s really quiet when no one else sings with the radio.”

Minghao flinches. Facing away from Jun, it’s easy, too easy, to overlay Junhui’s face alongside Jun’s voice. When Jun’s fingers curl just a bit tighter, tension tugging lightly at Minghao’s shirt, Minghao doesn’t have to imagine.

Turning over, Minghao looks at Jun, hands still in front of him, Jun blinking back at Minghao. 

It’s difficult to apologise when you don’t know what to apologise for, or to whom. So Minghao tips his head forward, lips brushing against Jun’s temple, and says, “Let’s have breakfast together tomorrow then.”

“Mm-kay.” Jun wriggles closer. Minghao lets him. “Minghao?”

Minghao pats Jun’s head. Jun huffs – _hah! –_ and Minghao feels the familiar curve of Junhui’s smile against his collarbone. Jun’s smile. “What is it,” Minghao says, when Jun doesn’t continue.

“Nothing? I like when you’re here, too. I didn't to say before. I’m going to rest now.”

 

 

“I changed my mind,” Minghao declares, “I’m moving in with Soonyoung-hyung, after all.”

There is no sense of deja vu, walking in on Junhui and Jun this time. For one thing, Junhui had a shirt on the last time – Minghao’s hoodie, which he never received back, but that’s beside the point – and for another–

“Soonyoung-hyung… Soonie?” Jun questions. The ease with which he’s perched on top of Junhui, straddling Junhui’s hip, suggests that they’ve done this before. Minghao is simultaneously swamped by the urge to capture the moment on camera and never recall his presence here ever again.

“Soonie,” Junhui agrees, curling a hand back around Jun’s nape to tug him closer again, kissing the tip of Jun’s nose, the corner of his mouth. “Soonie wouldn’t do this.”

Minghao interjects, “Debatable,” because, well, some truths are absolute.

“If he didn’t look like me, you’d be right,” Junhui agrees cheerfully. 

“Rude,” Jun pouts. Junhui hums, nuzzling his cheek. “I think we are very kissable.”

Jun’s likeness to Junhui only intensifies the more time they spend together. They spend a fair amount of time together. And there’s a small sense of pride in that, for Minghao, in Jun’s rapid capacity for learning, wedged between exasperation and resignation at precisely _what_ he is learning, and from whom. 

Though he supposes he did agree to this, albeit indirectly, when he decided to build Jun.

“The most kissable.” Junhui’s eyes are on Minghao as he says it.

The door feels suddenly too far away.

Minghao sits at the edge of the bed, where Junhui isn’t splayed across. 

He says, “I really wouldn’t know.”

“Junnie wants you to!” beams Jun, who continues. “Jun wants to, too…!”

Minghao raises an eyebrow at Junhui, who abruptly decided the sheets’ thread-count bears manual tallying.

Jun puffs his cheeks out, exhales, “Jun likes being included.”

Jun also likes being praised for knowing the answer to things, and Minghao can all too easily imagine how the habit developed when, still not looking at Minghao, Junhui reaches up to trail a hand down the knobs of Jun’s spine until he’s rubbing circles on Jun’s hip.

“Well,” Junhui says, gentle. “Doesn’t everybody?”

Minghao’s already staring when Junhui looks back. Junhui shrugs, as he smiles, shoulders mimicking the crescent of his smile, scaled up to shift the rest of his body further up the mattress.

“Woah,” Jun says, barely jostled by the movement at all. Minghao’s hand darts forward, between Jun’s shoulder blades, habit made instinct. Junhui’s hand skims back up so his pinky bumps against Minghao’s wrist.

Closing his eyes, Minghao sighs, too loud to be heartfelt, and links his pinky with Junhui’s before letting go again, ignoring the mirrored sets of laughter beside him. His ears are burning.

The mattress dips, and Minghao feels hands rest lightly on his shoulders. A voice mumbles by his ear, syllables too distinct to be from Junhui: “Junnie’s wanted to know for a long time, I think–?”

“Jun-ah,” Minghao opens his eyes, breathes, “please shut up.”

Jun shuts up. Minghao smooths his hair back from his forehead, and doesn’t look as Jun lets his head tip back with Minghao’s hand. Junhui is watching both of them from behind Jun, propped up on his elbows before he sits up, kisses Jun’s forehead: _mwah!_

_“_ Good boy,” Junhui coos.

“He’s a better student. Than you are,” Minghao’s voice catches, splits the thought in half.

Junhui’s response is immediate: “I can be good, too.” Stretching out his legs, Junhui nudges Minghao’s side with an ankle.

“Junnie’s really good,” Jun supplies helpfully. Junhui smiles. 

“Are you really.” Minghao reaches up, pokes Junhui’s cheek, amused when Junhui scrunches his nose at Minghao and sticks his tongue out, nipping at Minghao’s finger. Minghao leaves his finger where he is, gaze going half-lidded when Junhui’s mouth opens, sucks Minghao’s fingertip over the bite, pouts when Minghao pulls his finger away, hand curling to run knuckles against Junhui’s cheek, along his jaw.

“Don’t tease, Hao Hao. I’m telling the _truth_ …”

Jun taps Minghao’s nose, jolting Minghao and Junhui into looking at him.

“Don’t tease Junnie,” Jun parrots back. Junhui wraps himself around Jun, delighted, and presses his lips to Jun’s shoulder, mouths the words against Jun’s skin. He keeps his eyes on Minghao. “See? I’m right. Jun wouldn’t lie to you.”

Minghao waits a beat, considering. Then he leans in.

 

 

Junhui sleeps with Minghao the first week after they moved into the apartment. He doesn’t kick or fidget, so Minghao doesn’t mind. They both have busy schedules. There just isn’t time to buy another mattress until the weekend. It’s not a big deal. 

It’s not a big deal, but the circles under Junhui’s eyes, and maybe it means more to Junhui than Minghao anticipated.

“You’re fine,” Minghao says, when Junhui opens his mouth to apologise again. “The bed fits us fine. So it’s fine.”

“You don’t look very fine with it.”

Minghao almost says, _I should be saying that to you_ , but Junhui really does look miserable, curled in on himself and facing Minghao probably only out of etiquette, so as not to turn his back on the bed’s owner. Raising up his arm so the blanket lifts, Minghao tilts his head towards Junhui and says, “I’m alright if you’re alright,” and waits.

Junhui rolls over, right into Minghao, and breathes out when Minghao settles the blanket back over the two of them.

“Tell me if it stops being alright,” Junhui mumbles, arm slipping around Minghao’s waist. Minghao makes a quiet sound, surprised, and Junhui immediately loosens his already light hold. He’s barely resting any weight on Minghao at all now. “Sorry, I– Minghao, do you…”

“Do I?”

“Well, it’s. I just thought, I don’t know, maybe there’s someone else you had in mind, is all. You only used a single in college.”

“The rooms were smaller,” Minghao says.

“Oh. Never mind, then, I just thought… well, if there was someone else, I don’t mind if you imagined I was them, if you wanted. I’m really good at pretending, the agency thinks I am too–.”

“I’m not gonna act– I’m not gonna act like you’re someone you aren’t, Junhui."

It’s – maybe a big deal for Minghao, too.

 

 

It happens like this:

Minghao, mouthing at Junhui’s throat, a line of open-mouthed kisses anywhere he can reach from where he’s bracketed between Junhui’s arms, not so much leaning back into Junhui’s hold as he is straining against it, trying to reach Junhui’s mouth. 

His hips jump when Jun starts mouthing at the head of his cock. Jun makes a startled sound, muffled around Minghao’s cock, when the hands Minghao has carded through Jun’s hair press Jun’s face forward further. Minghao lets go immediately. 

“Gentle, Hao,” Junhui reminds against Minghao’s hair, breathing out a laugh when Minghao nips at his ear. 

A hand holding Minghao’s hip, Jun moves off Minghao’s cock to lick along the underside instead. “S’okay. Just surprised.”

Then he’s guiding Minghao’s hands back to his head, letting Minghao guide him when he takes Minghao in his mouth again.

“God,” Minghao says. Jun hums low when Minghao runs fingers through his hair.

“Nope.” Junhui tucks his chin against Minghao’s shoulder. “Just us.”

Minghao turns to face Junhui, and Junhui finally kisses him, hard.

Junhui’s hands wander in stripes along Minghao’s chest, trailing over Minghao’s ribcage, Minghao’s heart pounding heavy against his ears, loud inside his chest. Junhui’s fingers, tapping lightly in time up Minghao’s sides, enough for Minghao to feel the touch but not enough for Minghao to feel Junhui. 

This time, when Minghao nudges Jun’s head, Jun takes him the rest of the way, swallowing.

“Good,” Minghao breathes ragged, speaking against Junhui’s mouth. “Jun, you feel–“

Junhui’s kissing him again, “I’m here too,” he’s saying, “tell me I’m good too,” and when Minghao opens his eyes Junhui’s are half-lidded, irises blown out. Minghao can feel him, hard, where he’s pressed against Junhui.

Minghao says, “Junhui,” but Jun’s hollowing his cheeks, a hand reaching down to play at his balls and Minghao’s hips cant up, shuddering. He shifts a hand from Jun’s head to grab one of Junhui’s wrists, thumbing the soft skin as he tugs Junhui’s hand up to rest against his throat.

Junhui leaves his hand there when Minghao’s hand drops back to Jun’s head, pressure steadily building, building. 

“Hao Hao.” Junhui’s voice, all air, “You close?”

He splays his fingers along the column of Minghao’s throat, thumb and index not exerting any pressure yet. Minghao groans–

“I want you, wanna feel – _Junhui_.”

Throat raw, Jun manages to say, “Do it, on me, want to feel you too, please,” as he strokes Minghao and _that’s_ when Junhui decides to press down, Junhui leaning in to kiss Minghao as he comes. Minghao’s short-circuiting, his entire world collapsed back to this, his body, Junhui’s mouth, drinking him in, Junhui’s hands, holding him steady, holding back the air itself, the ruined, desperate gasp Jun makes when Minghao comes, spilling over Jun’s hand, Minghao’s belly.

When Junhui’s hand lets off some of the pressure Minghao’s head lolls back, mouth open. Minghao lets Junhui suck marks at the juncture between his neck and shoulder. He shudders when he feels Jun lick at his belly, licking Minghao’s come back off of him, stroking him through his orgasm and after with his now-slick hand, slow, almost lazy.

Sounding halfway to hoarse himself, Junhui laughs, abrupt in the relative quiet.

“Soonie wouldn’t be this good to you, I don’t think.”

Minghao chokes. Jun kisses Minghao’s hip, resting his head against Minghao’s thigh, eyes fluttering shut as Minghao rests a hand at the back of his neck. 

“Why,” Minghao manages, “is Soonyoung back in this conversation.”

Junhui shrugs, motion jerky. “I’m saying, I told you, I can be really good too, I’m–”

Minghao barks out a laugh. Then he says, almost solemn, “Junhui. You’re good. You’re the best. Please stop talking.”

Junhui blinks. Rolling off Minghao’s thigh, Jun moves so he’s beside Minghao, arm draping across Minghao’s waist.

“Junnie,” Jun says. He sounds almost sleepy. “Minghao wants you on top of him now.”

The sound Junhui makes at that makes Minghao grin. Jun laughs when Junhui scrambles out from behind Minghao, arranging the pillows to prop Minghao’s head up where Junhui was. Minghao slides a hand up Junhui’s leg, squeezing his thigh. “Gonna eat you out, Feifei, gonna finger you open when you sit on me…”

“Would you really,” Junhui tries, but his voice hitches halfway through and gives him away.

Minghao just grins up at him. 

“When,” he says, “have I ever not kept my word.”

 

 

Minghao keeps his word.

 

 

Junhui’s beautiful when he comes. He’s always beautiful, but Minghao tells him out loud, this time, and the look on Junhui’s face when he does is – not overwhelming, because that suggests too much, but Junhui is – he takes time. Because he’s perfectly himself, and sometimes that takes other people time. Minghao can’t fathom any reason why he’s never told Junhui anything else before.

Junhui, who laughs when he’s happy and smiles when he’s sad. Junhui, easily embarrassed with a sense of duty as set as Minghao’s own stubbornness, ditching his first ever movie premiere to see it incognito with Minghao, instead, to be the one handing Minghao tissues when Minghao cries as they watch. Minghao always cries at movies in the theatre.

Junhui, sober at a house party beside Minghao drunk off his mind, only barely lucid enough to register Junhui saying, _Oh Minghao, Xiao Hao, you could never be a burden to me_ and too hungover in the morning to be anything but quietly appreciative of Junhui’s body against his, lifting Minghao’s arm around their shoulder, walking them to their dorm. 

Junhui, hands warm but eyes even warmer, settling behind Jun to spoon him when they go to sleep, his other hand reaching to settle over Minghao’s chest, above his heart. The double bed wasn’t made to accomodate three people. They make it work.

Jun says, “I like this best, I like when everyone is together,” and Junhui hums and holds him closer, and on the tip of Minghao’s tongue rests a sentence, both a response and a feeling, swallowed back where it thunders against his ribs, echoed in the palm of his hand, the tips of his fingers, reaching for his heart, for Junhui’s hand.

 

 

 

 


End file.
